Lonesome Confectioner Seeks True Love
by vanillafluffy
Summary: Just suppose Mr. Willie Wonka decided to have an heir the old fashioned way, instead of all that business with the Golden Tickets...and he attempted to find a partner via a personal ad...


I'm sure that wherever he is, Mr. Roald Dahl is appalled. Or maybe not; his sense of humor was a trifle odd too.

Wonka-fics are starting to pop up here and there, and some of them are rather queer - er...peculiar. I see Mr. Willie Wonka as brilliant but naive, which is how this all came about. There's nothing downright carnal; it's only rated the way it is for a certain amount of implied naughtiness that might be a bit difficult to explain to younger readers.

Feel free to apply whichever version of the movieverse most strikes your fancy. Or neither, it makes no difference to me.I was simply at the mercy of a demented Plot Bunny on a sugar buzz who came hopping along with _this_...

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**Lonesome Confectioner Seeks True Love**

The candymaking genius Willy Wonka went walking through his beautiful factory one morning, making certain that everything was working properly. The chocolate waterfall was burbling merrily beside the swudge-covered meadows, the Oompa-loompas were singing, and everything seemed to be in perfect order. Mr. Wonka did this every day because otherwise, if something weren't absolutely right, his factory might turn out confections that were less than superior in every way.

When he walked into his Inventing Room - which was his very favorite room in the whole factory - he happened to glance at the clock on the wall. He stopped and looked at it very intently. He was behind schedule! By three whole minutes, he was tardy in his arrival in the Inventing Room. No difficulties had delayed Mr. Wonka - he was, quite simply, late.

Being a genius - and not only at candy-making, although that was his greatest gift - Willy Wonka had an idea of what that meant. "I am not as young as I was, and my steps are begining to falter. This is a very large factory, and if I continue to slow down, why, I can foresee the day when I will arrive here, only to have to leave once again."

You must not imagine, Dear Reader, that Mr. Wonka is an old man. No, indeed. He is of mature years, it is true, but the first threads of silver have not yet found his hair. There are no wrinkles lining his handsome face, and his merry eyes are still bright and unclouded. Being a highly intelligent man, he has realized that while age may not be leaving visible marks upon him as yet, the passage of time will inevitably bring changes.

"What will become of my lovely factory when I am too old to supervise the Oompa-loompas?" he wondered. "What will all the people who consume my creations do when I'm no longer here to create them?" The question was stickier than a pound of Wonka's Laffy Taffy. The obvious answer was to find someone who could take over for him, someone he could train in the ways of candy-making and share the secrets of his marvelous factory with. And he needed to do it soon, for it would take years and years for anyone to learn all that they would need to know.

It wouldn't do to bring in someone off the street - why, that someone might be in league with Prodnose or Slugworth and they would steal all his best ideas. Perhaps some young person would suitable - no, there were too many people who might get the wrong idea about what he was up to. Grown men do not solicit the company of children without incurring suspicion these days.

There was only one solution that Mr. Wonka could see - he would need an heir to give his factory to. Of course, that would require a partner with whom to produce said heir. Although he was a genius, even Mr. Willy Wonka hadn't discovered a way to change that. Giving the matter a good deal of thought, Mr. Wonka determined that in order to select from a pool of potential ladies, a method which would garner speedy results would be an on-line personal ad. He therefore sat down at his desk and composed the following:

**Lonesome confectioner seeks true love  
**Agreeable, intelligent lady wanted for long-term relationship.  
Must be willing to procreate.  
Expenses paid for travel to first meeting.

He signed it with his e-mail address and posted it to several services which existed for that purpose.

Over the course of the next several days, Willy Wonka received numerous replies from women who seemed to think that they were ideal for his purposes. He was able to sift out a great many of them for one reason or another, such as when their writing skills suggested that they were not quite of the intellectual caliber he required for the mother of his heir. Some of the ladies already had offspring. Or, they set conditions on him: he must be a member of their religion or political party or agree to pierce some body part - it amazed him how many women wanted to improve him without ever having met him.

At last, Mr. Wonka had the list winnowed down to six candidates:

Candy Kane (New York City, USA)  
Brandy Sherry Weingum (London, UK)  
Bonbon d'Sevier (Havana, Cuba)  
Coco Chenille (Paris, France)  
Mary Sue Ledbetter (Savannah, USA)

After a series of e-mails, Mr. Wonka arranged five visits (The Weingum sisters would be traveling together.) on successive Saturday nights.

The weekend for the first meeting finally arrived; Mr. Wonka's suite was prepared for an intimate dinner for two, with chamber music provided by a small group of Oompa-loompas. Having taken pains to learn than Ms. Kane's favorite confection was liquorice, Willy Wonka made certain that there was a good deal of his finest on hand.

When she alighted from the limousine at the factory gates, Willy Wonka wasn't prepared for the woman who stood before him. She was as pale as pale could be. Her hair was as black as tar and looked as if she'd been struck by lightning. Although it was a clear evening, she wore a bright red rain slicker that made him think of a still-gooey jelly bean. When they'd gone inside and she allowed him to take her coat, she was wearing even more shiny patent leather underneath it: a truly extraordinary red dress that looked as if she was shrink-wrapped inside it, tall red boots with laces like liquorice whips, and black mesh stockings. She hung her bright red purse on the hook along with her coat, but clung to a long red-and-black stick which was striped like a peppermint.

He ushered her into his apartment. Dinner went smoothly enough, although there were several things about Candy that Mr. Wonka found less than attractive. She didn't look terribly healthy: she was so extremely thin that she could have hidden behind a lamppost without difficulty. Her teeth and tongue were stained black as tar with an accumulation of liquorice. Also, her voice was quite loud and he didn't find that at all agreeable. However, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt: he might be able to fatten her up a bit, and a good dental cleaning could probably do wonders for her teeth. As for her way of speaking, well, perhaps she was merely nervous - he was himself, a bit.

What happened to rule out Candy Kane? That came when Mr. Willy Wonka dimmed the lights and sat beside her on his couch. As he was formulating the best way to determine whether or not Miss Kane would be receptive to a gentle kiss, she leaned over and pressed the red black stick against Mr. Wonka's throat.

"Excuse me, but that's quite uncomfortable," said he.

"Silence!" she snapped. Even the Oompa-loompas stopped playing. "You will speak only when spoken to, and you will address me as 'Mistress'."

"I will not!" exclaimed Mr. Wonka indignantly.

"That's the wrong attitude to take with me! If you want to be Candy's man, you're going to have to learn to show respect."

"I don't think that this is going to work," said Mr. Wonka sadly. "You and me, I mean. I'm looking for someone more, um, maternally inclined."

"Well then, why did you advertise on the Liquorice and Whips bulletin board? Maybe you like playing hard to get, is that it?"

As she drew back her stick, perhaps with the thought of expressing her point in a more ladylike way, a quick-thinking Oompa-loompa threw his tuba so that its bell covered Candy Kane's sharp-featured head like a helmet. In a trice - for there were three Oompa-loompas - Miss Kane was bound with a thick black rope of liquorice and lugged down to the waiting limo to be returned to whence she came.

Shaken and disturned by the incident, Willy Wonka hoped that the following week's interview with the Weingum sisters would prove less traumatic.

On the following Saturday evening, Mr. Wonka took the precaution of adding more Oompa-loompas to the orchestra and making certain to have ample liquorice rope on hand - for a superior liquorice rope such as Wonka's is quite sturdy when several thicknesses are used. He hoped that his preparations would prove unnecessary; after all, what could be more wholesome than sisters who confessed a weakness for Wonka's Wonderful Jelly Juicies and subscribed to a service called Share Share Alike?

Mr Willy Wonka though he was seeing double when Brandy and Sherry Weingum got out of the limousine. They were idential twins, wearing identical gold lame dresses. The only difference was that Brandy's hair was slightly more amber-coloured, while Sherry's was a bit reddish. They seemed quite agreeable, he was pleased to find, finishing each other's sentences and giggling like schoolgirls. It would be difficult to choose between them, but after all, he only needed one wife.

Since there was no trouble keeping a conversation going with the Weingum sisters, Mr Wonka was able to study them as they talked. They were both generously rounded, and had hearty appetites, he was relieved to see. Their chuckling laughter was certainly more pleasant than Candy Kane's nasal tones. That still left a rather sticky question: which one would be better suited to become the mother of his heir, and how could he avoid hurting the feelings of the remaining sister?

Alas, it seemed that the twins were reluctant to be parted. After dinner, they both joined Mr Wonka on the sofa, with Brandy on his left and Sherry on his right - or perhaps it was Sherry who was on his left and Brandy who was on his right, for the lights were strategically dimmed to provide a romantic atmosphere and it was difficult to tell whose hair was reddish and whose was more brown.

Still, they weren't trying to order him around or behaving badly, and Mr Wonka began to think that if he could just pick one, his search would be over. He tried to decide which twin to marry, and was entertaining the notion of having them wrestle for it in a pool of cocoa butter, when the twin on his left leaned over and kissed his cheek. Ah, apparently the choice had been made for him.

Then the twin on his right leaned over and kissed his other cheek. And then, without warning, two hands, one from either side of him reached out and began to explore him in what he could only regard as an overly-familiar manner.

Willy Wonka let out a squeak of surprise and the Weingum twins giggled. In his attempts to evade them, he backpedaled to the top of the couch and toppled over backward. Luckily, he landed on the pile of liquorice rope and wasn't hurt, and the faithful Oompa-loompas blocked the sisters, who were obviously ready to rush to his rescue.

"Oh, dear," he said to himself after the disappointed Weingums had gone. "I don't seem to be having much success finding a suitable wife at all. I do hope this Bonbon person is a bit more sedate."

Miss d'Sevier had come to his notice by way of the Daring Divas list; by now he was beginning to question the wisdom of his search methods. Daring? Perhaps she'd expect him to enjoy skydiving or bungee-jumping or some such lunacy. Divas made him think of opera - he wasn't sure which would be worse.

It looked as if the issue was moot when the following Saturday came and went and his prospective Mrs. failed to appear. Not until Sunday morning did he receive an apologetic e-mail from the lady from Havana, citing difficulties in departing from her homeland. Mr Wonka felt a surge of sumpathy for the brave soul who'd faced such dreadful opposition in the search for love.

When the Cuban expatriot arrived, Mr Wonda was pleased by what he saw. Bonbon's hot pink, elbow-length gloves matched her sunglasses. Her dark hair was upswept beneath a festive hat that playfully represented a basket of fruit. She wore an off-the-shoulder white top that exposed a well-toned midriff, and vividly-patterned harem pants with bright green sandals. She was, in short, a knockout. And so ladylike!

As he ushered her upstairs to dine, she apologized again for having inadvertantly stood him up. "Our raft was becalmed off the Florida coast, and then I got, uh, lost in South Beach."

"You poor dear," Willy Wonka tsk-tsked, when she recounted how she'd been smugged out of the States in a shipment of bananas. "How distressing for you."

Bonbon sighed. "You have no idea."

Dinner was a leisurely affair-apparently Miss d'Sevier's meals had been rather limited of late, and she was delighted to have something other than bananas. Mr. Wonka happily sent to the kitchens for a second helping of prawn cocktails for his companion. She had a very hearty appetite More Yorkshire pudding? Of course! And certainly, he'd be happy to give her the recipe for the Ambrosial Melon Surprise served for dessert.

Settling down on the sofa afterward with demitasse cups, Mr. Willy Wonka broached the subject so dear to his heart. His splendid factory would need someone to take over its management someday, and Mr. Wonka wanted to ensure that there would be an heir for the task. So, naturally, he was endeavoring to find a suitable candidate to help him produce said heir, and Miss d'Sevier was so very lovely...

The Cuban beauty's eyes filled with tears. "Mr. Wonka, I'm so sorry...I haven't been honest with you. It's impossible for me to have children." At the sight of the dismay writ upon his face, she hurried to explain. "It was wrong of me to answer your letter, when I knew I couldn't fulfill your conditions...but I had to get away from the regime in my homeland. They wanted to take away my high heels and make me work on the banana plantations - barefoot!"

Willy Wonka managed a smile. "I'm glad I could help you, my dear. Even if this doesn't bring me any closer to gaining an heir, it's good to know that I've changed someone's life for the better."

After she had gone - not back to the airport, but to London, with enough cash to help her get on her feet - Mr. Wonka sat quietly in his suite. The Oompa-loompas were off duty; it was just him alone with his thoughts, and at the moment, they were rather discouraged. Four women had come and gone, and he was no closer to having a wife than he'd been a month ago. Perhaps one of the remaining two ladies would prove suitable? He hoped so - oh, how he hoped! This was becoming rather stressful. It was a terrible shame about Miss d'Sevier's infertility problem - they'd gotten along so well - but shared passions for fly-fishing and Lerner and Loew musicals were not enough.

If there was one good thing to come out of the delay in meeting Miss d'Sevier, it was that Mr. Wonka only had to wait for five days instead of seven for his next potential bride to appear. On the following Saturday evening, with everything in readiness - again - he stood in front of the factory - again - awaiting the limousine's arrival - again! This was becoming uncomfortably familiar.

Miss Coco Chenille of Paris...Mr. Wonka felt an urge to call the driver of the limo and ask him to return the woman, sight unseen. His usual optimism blunted by the series of disasterous dates, he was quite convinced that the Frenchwoman would have the haughty attitude of every maitre-d' who'd ever snubbed a hapless diner who couldn't pronounce - much less translate - an elaborate menu item.

When the big car pulled up to the factory entrance, Willy Wonka tensed. The driver emerged and opened the passenger door, and out stepped a vision of elegance in pale blue. Mr. Wonka took two steps ahead, never taking his eyes off her. He stumbled - he wasn't sure on what - and found himself face-to-face with a woman who smiled angelically back at him.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Wonka," she greeted him. Her delicate face was heart-shaped, and her voice had the same lilting pitch as his chocolate waterfall.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Chenille," he said, and stopped. His mind was blank - which was quite a rare occurance for Mr. Willy Wonka! Although perfectly fluent in her native tongue (as well as several others), the only French phrases that occured to him at the moment were quelle frommage, s'il vous-plait, tout suite-none of which struck him as successful conversational gambits.

"It is a delight to meet you, Monsieur Wonka."

"My dear lady," he said in English - that syntax still seemed to be functioning, fortunately - "-I'm delighted to welcome you to my home and to the industry that makes it all possible. This is my factory - that is to say, I also reside here, the better to oversee production, but I'm - I -" Alas, Mr. Wonka's English seemed to be malfunctioning as well. "Perhaps you would care for a tour?"

Miss Chenille was blushing, a delicate rose pink that accentuated the perfection of her alabaster skin. Her tawny hair streamed over her bare shoulders The soft blue dress displayed her feminine charms quite nicely, but seemed dull compared to her eyes. A cool, misty color of limitless depth and enchantment...he might liken her skin to a Divinity Puff, or her hair to Honey-luscious Caramels, but her wide-set eyes were unlike anything he'd ever seen, much less tried to reproduce.

"It would be an honor to see your factory. I know very few people are ever invited inside."

Somehow, his hand had found hers. He didn't know how or when that had happened, but she didn't seem to think him impertinent. Mr. Willy Wonka hadn't had the slightest desire to show any of the previous candidates his precious factory, but with Coco Chenille, he felt a fluttering sense of anticipation. He wanted to stroll hand-in-hand with her across the swudge-covered meadow and to hear for himself whether her sweet voice sounded like the burbling of chocolate frothing into a river of the same.

One of the diligent Oompa-loompas greeted them near the entrance of the meadow with pairs of the booties that protected the swudge from contamination. In an inspired display of chivalry, Mr. Wonka knelt before Miss Chenille and assisted her in donning the footwear. (The Oompa-loompa had to remind him to put on his own booties, certainly the first time he'd ever neglected that!)

Watching her move gracefully beside him across the minty field, the candymaker felt a pang of concern that such a charming, beautiful woman couldn't possibly be interested in the likes of him. Although he'd had no difficulty whatsoever attracting the wrong women, he was very much afraid that he wouldn't be so lucky with the right one...Miss Chenille. She was enchanted by the underground meadow, delighted to sample the sugar-mint foliage, and when they approached the waterfall, Mr. Wonka discovered that her voice was, indeed, in perfect harmony with its song.

"This is marvelous, Monsieur Wonka. It does not seem like a factory at all, it is more like a beautiful park. What a wonderful place for children to play!"

His heart gave a little skip. "There's nothing I'd like to see more. May I offer you some refreshment after your journey, Miss Chenille?" he offered, producing a mug from a ledge of rock candy near the base of the falls.

"Please, call me Coco." She smiled at him again, and he nearly fell into the chocolate river, cup and all.

"Cocoa, Coco?"

"Merci." Coco Chenille accepted the beverage with a little curtsey. "Mmm...this is magnifique." She sipped slowly from the cup, eyes half-closed, savoring the warm, chocolate-y goodness.

Willie Wonka strugged for something intelligent to say. "Did you know that consuming chocolate produces a chemical in the brain that creates the same feelings as falling in love?"

Coco blinked fetchingly at him over her cocoa. "Somehow, I don't think it's entirely the chocolate."

And it wasn't.

In due time, there was an heir to the Wonka factory. Several potential heirs, in fact, because there was a good deal of excellant chocolate on the premises and true love as well. And so, we can rest assured that Wonka's confections will delight the world for many years to come.

What about the final candidate, you may ask? Mr. Wonka sent Mary Sue Ledbetter a generous consolation gift, which she used to expand her home-based cosmetic sales business. Being a successful career woman, she found other opportunites to travel, and wasn't upset by his cancellation of their date. She eventually found the love of her life in a most unexpected place, but that is another story entirely. And Dear Readers, I'm shocked if you thought I would ever allow the charming Mr. Wonka to be matched with a Mary Sue!

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Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! 


End file.
